


Reunions

by undersail2013



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 18:58:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undersail2013/pseuds/undersail2013





	Reunions

“Hey Cas, can I have a word?”  


“Of course, Dean.” The former angel followed Dean, all the way back to the street.  


For a moment, Dean leaned on the Impala’s haunch, arms folded, gazing at Cas. “I really am so glad to see you, buddy. You had me- us- worried sick.”  


“Thank you. I missed you, too. Um, both of you.” Cas searched his beloved friend’s too-solid face, wishing he could still read the thoughts hidden behind it. Oh, what a time for the eyes to start leaking again. He didn’t remember human eyes leaking so often; perhaps his were defective. No, Dean’s seemed to be wet, too. He wondered if Dean also missed their silent conversations.  


He cleared his throat. “Was that all you wanted to say, Dean?”  


“Hmm? Oh. Yeah. There’s something I want to give you.” Opening the trunk, he reached into a dark recess, pulled out something wrapped in a dull green towel. Carefully, reverently, he laid the object across one palm and pulled back the cloth. The silvery gleam took Castiel’s breath away.  


An angelic blade. “Dean.” The name spoken as a paean of thanksgiving. This was a mighty gift.  


“It was, uh, it was Meg’s,” he muttered, and his words were filled with meaning.  


So she was dead.  


Cas laid his hand upon the sword and felt the hilt almost vibrate under his fingers. He considered that this weapon was triply special: an heirloom of his celestial home, wielded by Meg, rescued and treasured by Dean. It wasn’t his own lovely blade, but that was probably best; the taint of corruption surely swarmed thickly around that terrible weapon that had smited so many brothers and sisters in the pointless war with Raphael. Fortunately for Castiel, his human mind was unable to determine which of his brethren had died for this gift, whose arms he now bore. It was enough to know that this new blade recognized him as a friendly hand.  


A frown tugged briefly at his face when he realized that he could not simply tuck it away in his coat sleeve. No dimensional pockets for humans. Instead, he took the towel from Dean, wrapped up the blade, and curled the parcel to his chest for one small moment. “I will need to find a way to carry it with me, but for now it is too conspicuous,” Cas lamented, returning the blade to its place deep in the trunk.  


“We’ll figure it out,” Dean promised, pulling Cas into another hug. He had made that promise before, and Cas hoped he said it now for the same reasons. Thus far, he had not broken his word.


End file.
